


Coming Home

by inksheddings



Category: Wild Adapter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kubota and Tokito have to move – but in what direction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reddwarfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/gifts).



Tokito stood at the doorway with a box in his arms. It wasn't a terribly heavy box, mostly filled with video games, but it wasn't all that light either. Kubota wondered how long it would take Tokito to either drop it or give in and walk into their new apartment.

After they crawled out of the bay, made their way home, and somehow managed to stay alive, Kubota figured it would be best to find a new place to live. Kou had helped out in that department, and Kubota had to admit that the result was better than expected. The apartment wasn't much bigger than their old one, but it had fresh paint and carpet and the bedroom window was placed so that neither he nor Tokito would ever get woken up by too much morning sun.

Yet there stood Tokito, with a blank look on his face, as if he had simply broken down once he'd reached the doorway.

"Tokito. I thought I'd start dinner."

Kubota had stocked the fridge before they'd started moving their meager belongings over to the furnished apartment. He'd even sprung for a new set of cookware, figuring the old had been abused enough for one lifetime.

Tokito didn't say anything. He didn't shout for "Curry!" or even "No more curry!" He just stood there, staring at the inside of the apartment as if it held something more ghastly than the watery muck Kubota had been forced to clean out of their old shower's floor with a rag, when it simply would not disappear down the drain after sliding off their skin.

Kubota put down the pan and walked over to Tokito. He took the box from him and set it on the floor. He took Tokito's hands but did not try to pull him inside. Kubota simply held them gently and kissed Tokito's forehead before resting his own head on Tokito's shoulder.

"We can go back," Kubota said. "Even if someone else has rented the place, we can go back."

Kubota felt Tokito's shoulders tense, then relax.

"Don't be stupid, Kubo-chan. We can't go back," Tokito answered, squeezing Kubota's hands and nuzzling his cheek. His gloved hand squeezed hard enough to nearly bring tears to Kubota's eyes, but he didn't complain; he reveled in the feeling of having brought Tokito's mind out of whatever state, within which, it had found itself lost.

"It's just ..." Tokito began to say.

"What?"

Tokito wrapped his arms around Kubota's waist and walked them both inside the apartment. Kubota could feel Tokito's entire body tense again as they crossed the threshold, as if stepping inside was physically painful.

"It's just … we can't go back," Tokito repeated, his voice a whisper.

Kubota thought that, maybe, he understood.

"No, Tokito. We can't go back. But I don't want to." Kubota wrapped his own arms around Tokito's body and pulled him even further into their new home, walking him steadily toward the bedroom. "I only want to go wherever you are now."

Now it was Tokito pushing forward, but missing the doorway into the bedroom and slamming Kubota up against the wall, kissing him and biting him and making sure that the first mark left, proving their residence, was left upon Kubota's skin.

There was no going back, true. Not to where they started – with amnesia and a lack of trust that could have been the end of them both. But still, not all _that_ much had to change, not what truly mattered. Like curry and cigarettes and video games. Like lips and hands and promises never spoken.  
Like Tokito's still shy unbuttoning of Kubota's shirt or Kubota's smile when he made Tokito come with a flick of his wrist.

After they skipped dinner but not dessert (chocolate caramel nut ice cream) and ate with new spoons in a new bed (on old sheets that smelled familiar), Tokito drifted to sleep with only a minimal amount of comforting murmurs and soft finger strokes down his back. Kubota stayed awake for a while longer, lit cigarette in his mouth and leather glove in his hand, and thanked whatever might possibly be listening for the fact that he would never have to go back.

 

**end**


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